


The Bracelet

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Gap Filler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-10
Updated: 2005-01-10
Packaged: 2018-12-27 14:12:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12082704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: My explanation for why Brian's bracelet disappeared. Gapfiller for 304.





	The Bracelet

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

“I believe this belongs to you.” 

Asshole. He knows it’s mine. Although the real asshole is Claire’s little sonofabitch who took it in the first place. 

I thank him, and he says “Anytime,” before tying the bracelet back on my wrist. His touch burns my skin, but in a good way. I want more, but this is more than I’ve gotten from him in weeks, ever since he left with that fiddler. I guess I’ll take whatever I can get. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to your boyfriend?” I can’t look at him when I say that. It’s more of a statement than a question. I know that he’s going to leave, and it really should be soon, before I do something that might embarrass me later, make me look completely pathetic.

After he leaves, I head back into the loft, thinking about what this bracelet represents. It’s my trademark, what identifies me as Brian Kinney, Stud of Liberty Avenue. It’s seen me through so many nameless, faceless fucks. It was there with me that night under the lamppost, it was there at the Prom, and every night in the hospital. He still doesn’t know about that. It was there every time I brought home a trick, every time I disappointed him. It was there when I didn’t buy the roses, and every time I chose work over him. 

“I believe this belongs to you.”

I hear his words in my head. It’s like he’s offering me my status symbol. My freedom. Like he’s telling me to stop thinking about him every night, every time someone else’s skin doesn’t look quite right under those blue lights, or doesn’t feel soft enough under my fingers. He’s offering me absolution, permission to go back to who I was before him. Before he got in under my skin, and turned around everything I used to believe in. Before I realized that not only could I fuck myself, I could break my own heart too.

Maybe I don’t want that anymore. Maybe I don’t want to be that asshole. Maybe it’s time to put all of that behind me.

Maybe it’s time to put the bracelet away.


End file.
